


Ivy

by wildflower_daydreamer



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, jonsa, some fluff with just a dash of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildflower_daydreamer/pseuds/wildflower_daydreamer
Summary: Sansa Stark has been hidden in plain sight with Littlefinger in the Eyrie as Alayne Stone. One day, the new Targaryen king comes for a visit. Inspired by the song Ivy by Taylor Swift.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 17
Kudos: 128





	Ivy

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, writing about political intrigue and the like isn't exactly my forte, so please forgive me. FYI, the Night King and white walkers don't exist in this universe.
> 
> Ivy by Taylor Swift
> 
> How's one to know? / I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones / In a faith forgotten land / In from the snow / Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow / Tarnished but so grand
> 
> And the old widow goes to the stone every day / But I don't, I just sit here and wait / Grieving for the living
> 
> Oh, goddamn / My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand / Taking mine, but it's been promised to another / Oh, I can't / Stop you putting roots in my dreamland / My house of stone, your ivy grows / And now I'm covered in you
> 
> I wish to know / The fatal flaw that makes you long to be / Magnificently cursed / He's in the room / Your opal eyes are all I wish to see / He wants what's only yours
> 
> Oh, goddamn / My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand / Taking mine, but it's been promised to another / Oh, I can't / Stop you putting roots in my dreamland / My house of stone, your ivy grows / And now I'm covered
> 
> Clover blooms in the fields / Spring breaks loose, the time is near / What would he do if he found us out? / Crescent moon, coast is clear / Spring breaks loose, but so does fear / He's gonna burn this house to the ground / How's one to know? / I'd live and die for moments that we stole / On begged and borrowed time / So tell me to run / Or dare to sit and watch what we'll become / And drink my husband's wine
> 
> Oh, goddamn / My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand / Taking mine, but it's been promised to another / Oh, I can't / Stop you putting roots in my dreamland / My house of stone, your ivy grows / And now I'm covered in you / And I'm covered in you
> 
> So yeah, it's a fire / It's a goddamn blaze in the dark / And you started it / You started it / So yeah, it's a war / It's the goddamn fight of my life / And you started it / You started it
> 
> Oh, I can't / Stop you putting roots in my dreamland / My house of stone, your ivy grows / And now I'm covered / In you, in you / Now I'm covered in you / In you

1.

"And this, Your Grace, is my daughter Alayne Stone," Petyr Baelish said with bowed head and a gesture to Sansa at his side. Sansa could sense the hint of trepidation in his voice. He had been certain that the king wouldn't recognize Alayne as Sansa due to the years that had passed, Sansa turning from a pretty girl into a beautiful young woman, and the dyed dark hair. But as the Targaryen party arrived, Baelish seemed to lose a fraction of that confidence.

Sansa gave a graceful curtsy to the new Targaryen king. It was a wonder that her quickly beating heart didn't suddenly seize as her eyes met his, hoping and praying he would know her. It was even more of a wonder that the king, even with astonished recognition in his eyes, didn't expose Sansa for who she truly was in front of the lords and ladies of the Vale.

Jon Snow - _no, King Aegon_ , Sansa reminded herself - the only family Sansa had left in this world. He went from being her bastard half brother to her cousin and king. Meanwhile, over the same long years, Sansa went from a lady to the fake bastard daughter of Littlefinger.

With a curt nod from the king, Baelish stepped in between and guided him to the High Hall. Sansa stayed behind as everyone else followed suit. She knew better than to test her luck. She was sure Baelish needed her for his intricate schemes, but she also knew the Moon Door could always be a surprise option if he knew the king recognized her. He never said it in so many words leading up to the royal visit, but the sentiment was there in his veiled threats. Sansa, instead, returned to her room, intending to stay hidden from Baelish's calculating eyes until dinner.

_Jon has very much grown up_ , Sansa noted as she sat and brushed out her dark tresses, thinking of the man that had stood before her. She hadn't much payed attention to him when they were children, he was always so brooding and quiet around her. Plus, she felt a loyalty toward her mother to not associate much with her father's bastard. _If only she had known her husband never betrayed their marriage_ , Sansa thought, thinking of the moment she herself had found out about Jon's true parentage. Rumors had begun to swirl around the Eyrie when news of the sudden Targaryen defeat of Cersei in King's Landing reached them. It had originally been a queen, Daenerys, who had come to Westeros in order to conquer it. But then there was another - one with greater claim to the throne. This Aegon Targaryen was her nephew and the secret son of Prince Rhaegar. Suddenly, word had it that he was Lyanna Stark's son. Sansa had to bite her lip to keep from correcting everyone that her aunt was taken, raped and killed by the prince. That night, she and Baelish had supper alone. He was quiet, contemplating the news, trying to think of advantageous ways to endear himself to the new crown after he backed Cersei for so long. Sansa took a chance to ask him why everyone would think the new king was Lyanna's son. It was then that she found out the truth. Lyanna had ran away willingly with Rhaegar because she was actually in love with him. He didn't abuse, rape, or kill her. She bore him a son and died shortly after. Sansa wondered about the cousin she didn't know, a small hope blooming within her at the thought of having at least one more family member out there. Baelish corrected her, telling her she'd known him her whole life. Then he said his name. Jon Snow. Sansa had let out a heavy breath, confused thoughts running through her mind.

After some time following the new king's arrival, a rapid knock came at her door and Baelish let himself in.

"I believe we are in the clear, my sweetling. King Aegon doesn't seem to know who you truly are. However, let us not get overly confident. Keep your distance from him. And only be in his presence at dinners, since I can't keep you from those without raising some sort of suspicion."

"Yes, Father," Sansa replied. The title he insisted on was something she was used to but it still felt awful on the tip of her tongue.

"Get dressed for dinner. I will have Harry escort you. And, please, remember to keep your eyes down around the king, sweetling," Baelish reminded her in a sickeningly sweet voice as he kissed the top of her head. The touch made her inwardly shudder. Petyr stepped out of the room and Sansa glowered at the closed door.

She turned and gazed out her window at the engulfing expanse of air outside the Eyrie. She was happy to get away from King's Landing and out of Cersei's clutches. But she still felt trapped here. Stuck in a fake identity, betrothed to a man she didn't want, entangled in her fake father's conniving plans. Resigned to her predicament but still hoping to catch Jon's eye again, Sansa went to her wardrobe to find one of her prettiest dresses. Not long after, a lazier knock came at her door. Harry announced his arrival and Sansa let out a sullen sigh before she painted a smile on her face. She opened the door and greeted her future philandering husband.

As they entered the High Hall arm in arm, they were guided to the high table where the king sat with Baelish. Harry gave a lazy bow to the king and Sansa offered another curtsy, making sure to keep her eyes on the ground in front of Baelish

"This, Your Grace, is my sweet daughter's betrothed, Harrold Hardyng," Baelish stated with a flourish.

Sansa stopped paying attention, hating the thought of being linked with these two men. _Not men. Scum_ , she thought as she stared at the hem of her dress. Before she knew it, Harry was pulling at her arm to whisk her along the length of the table, taking their seats out of sight from the king. Sansa wasn't surprised that Petyr would seat her there but it discouraged her hopes of catching Jon's attention again.

Dinner was a dull affair with Harry talking nonstop of his latest jousting practice. However, she was constantly having to evade his roving hand on her thigh. There once was a time that Sansa would have been so very happy to be marrying the handsome Harry, the heir to the Vale behind her cousin Robin. But, thanks to Joffrey, Sansa had grown out of those sweet romantic tales she loved as a girl. There would be no happy ending with Harry, the womanizing scoundrel who had a handful of bastards. She knew he would not stop his scandalous ways once they were married.

A servant cleared away her plate and Sansa sat staring into her goblet of wine when movement caught the corner of her eye. She glanced up and found Jon standing and thanking a few of the lords that were seated near him. Suddenly, Jon's eyes caught her stare. It was for the briefest of moments but it filled Sansa with something like a warmth she hadn't felt in ages. And with that, he turned away, walking with Baelish out of the hall. Sansa's stare returned to her wine as she now looked forward to tomorrow's dinner in hope of offering Jon a small, secret smile.

After a while, Baelish came back to the hall alone and Sansa couldn't help but wonder where Jon had gone. Harry eventually made his leave, excusing himself to sleep. But Sansa knew he'd be making his way to one of his lovers since she still denied him intimate contact. After discussing things with the other lords, Petyr appeared at her side.

"Come, my sweet, I'll escort you to your chambers," he said, offering his arm to her and she reluctantly took it.

"How has your day fared, Father? Is everything going how you want it?" Sansa ventured to ask as they walked along, wanting to collect any information she could.

"Very well, I must say. I do believe your identity will remain a secret. And your former bastard brother seems to be an amenable king. He's young and unsure, perfect for me to influence," he whispered in response. Sansa had to hide her sneer when she looked over to find Baelish's sick smile. "Halfway through dinner, he claimed to be very tired from his travels. I began to ingratiate myself to him as I guided him to his chambers. Offered him the very best of the Vale, promised him that I am completely behind his ventures, told him the Knights of the Vale would be at his disposal if ever needed."

Sansa nodded along until they gratefully reached her chamber door. She offered Baelish a fake smile and bid him goodnight, Petyr's thin lips brushed against her cheek in a farewell. She opened her door and quickly closed it, rubbing her hand against her cheek as if it could erase the oily touch she felt.

"Alayne." The voice sounded in a dark part of her room and halted Sansa, her breath paused. The king of Westeros stepped out from behind a window curtain, seeming to magically appear from the nothingness of the dark. "Pretty name. I like 'Sansa' better though."

Sansa's mind instantly floated back to that time in their youth, before any of them stupidly left Winterfell, when she taught Jon to always compliment a lady's name. She shook off the memory and remembered to breathe.

"Your Grace," Sansa whispered.

"Please. Don't call me that. You know my name just as I know yours," Jon said quietly, slowly walking up to her and into the candlelight.

"Jon." With that simple utterance, they flew into each other's arms. Jon held her tightly and Sansa kept herself from sobbing into his cloaked shoulder.

"It really is you," Jon breathed into her neck, as if the physical touch confirmed it for him.

When they released their grasp on one another, Sansa finally searched his face now that they were alone. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?" she asked.

"With the help of Mya Stone. My men and I befriended her as she guided us up here. After being introduced to you upon my arrival, I sent one of my men to find her. All I had to do was excuse myself from dinner early. I found her waiting for me and she showed me where to go."

"That's pretty brave of you. What if you were caught?"

Jon shrugged, a smile curling up the left side of his mouth. "I'm the king."

Sansa felt her first genuine smile in years form on her own face. "It's brave of you to entrust your secret endeavor to a stranger. Thankfully, you chose well with Mya. She isn't one to spread talk."

"I got that sense of her. She seemed trustworthy enough. I had to come see you. I needed to know it really was you, Sansa."

It felt amazingly good to hear someone say her real name after so long. "Well, it really is me."

"Why the lie, though? Why are you being passed as this 'Alayne Stone'? As Littlefinger's bastard daughter?" Jon didn't hide his disgust at Petyr's name and Sansa didn't blame him.

"It was the way for me to escape Cersei. To escape her accusation of me being responsible for Joffrey's poisoning. Hidden in plain sight." Sansa sat on her bed, gesturing for Jon to take a seat there as well.

"Why would Littlefinger do that for you?" Jon asked, sitting near her. Not close enough, in her own opinion, as she felt a neediness to be physically close. "What's his intention? Everyone knows he only does things for his own ambitions."

"Oh, he definitely has his intentions. Passing me off as his daughter, he has me betrothed to Harry Hardyng, as you met tonight." Sansa didn't miss the slight unimpressed smirk that flickered on his face. "Harry is the heir to the Vale if something were to happen to my cousin Robin. Ultimately, he wants me to marry Harry and quickly become pregnant with Harry's own heir. Then, in whatever succession he decides on, some terrible fate would befall Robin and Harry. Leaving my son, his supposed-grandson, as the Lord of the Vale. In which case, Baelish would be the ruler of the Vale for all intents and purposes."

"Ah," Jon said simply, processing each step of the plan. "So you are integral to it all."

"Yes. Which means Baelish is very protective of my identity. He was worried you'd recognize me."

"Sansa. I would recognize you anywhere. With or without dyed hair." Jon's hand came up, cautiously, and fingered the end of a lock of her raven hair.

She didn't know if it was just hearing her real name, or the assuredness he had that he'd recognize her, or the very gentle pull she felt from his touch of her hair. Whatever it was, she had been filled with something she couldn't even begin to describe. _Longing? Is that what this is? Longing for what?_ she thought, her eyes falling closed for a moment.

"I should head back to my chamber before someone finds me missing," Jon said quietly, reluctance in his voice.

Sansa nodded. "How long are you staying here? I didn't want to pry too much from Baelish, in case he thinks I'm suspiciously too interested."

"Ten days have been planned," Jon answered, getting to his feet. "Would you mind if I tried sneaking in for another visit sometime?" The question was almost shyly asked.

"I would love that. Truly." She pried her door open slowly and peeked out into the corridor. Finding it empty, she gave Jon a nod.

"Good night, Sansa," he said in a barely audible whisper and slipped past her, his cloak's hood over his head as he stealthily made his way out of sight.

That night, Sansa laid in bed, her fingers tracing her lips, feeling the unfamiliar genuineness of the upwards curve at the corners. Once asleep, she dreamt her favorite dream of walking through the grounds of Winterfell.

* * *

2.

The next night at dinner, Sansa played the role of Alayne just as Petyr would like, eyes down and no contact with the king and his men. Once back in her chambers though, she waited patiently, hoping Jon would be able to safely slip away and join her again. She didn't have to wait too long before a nearly silent knock came at her door.

"Just come in next time, I'll leave it unlocked; I don't want you standing out in the corridor waiting for me to open the door," Sansa informed him after she ushered him in.

"Yes, my lady," Jon replied, smiling at her command. Sansa playfully shoved his shoulder.

That night, they talked of Jon's journey to being crowned king. Sansa learned it wasn't something that he really wanted. To the best of his ability, he told her how his brothers in the Watch betrayed him. He showed her the scars that littered his chest and back. After that, this Samwell Tarly had learned of Jon's true parentage. Wanting revenge on the Lannisters for what they had done to his family, and needing a strong army to take Winterfell back from the Bolton's, Jon met with Daenerys as she made her home on Dragonstone. It took time but they built a strong enough alliance. The only problem was who had the stronger claim to the throne. Jon didn't want the Iron Throne, but it soon was apparent that the lords and ladies of Westeros wouldn't take well to the Mad King's daughter and her foreign army of Dothraki hordes and Unsullied. Having grown up in Westeros and raised by the honorable Ned Stark, Jon was the better looking ruler. He had been pushed into the role of king by their councilors, at the dismay of his aunt. The plan had worked. Winterfell was taken back from the horrendous Ramsey Bolton, his body burned away from existence. Their armies and threat of dragons took King's Landing quickly. Cersei would rather die at her own hand with poison than face justice. The transition back to Targaryen rule was mostly peaceful, due in part to Jon's upbringing and the Westerosi people not truly seeing him as a Targaryen but a Stark. He and Daenerys had begun to fill their council strategically, finding at least one person from each of the seven realms. Jon's task for his current trip to the Vale was to find someone worthy enough to join the council. He asked Sansa's opinion on it and she suggested Yohn Royce.

"I will make sure to meet with him tomorrow," Jon noted while Sansa tried to unsuccessfully stifle a yawn. "And you need to sleep," he laughed. "I should make my leave."

Just like the night before, Sansa silently checked outside her door and gave Jon a nod.

"Thanks for listening tonight, Sansa. I didn't realize I needed to talk so much about everything," he whispered, bashfully rubbing at the back of his neck. He gave her the quickest of kisses on the top of her head before he disappeared into the corridor.

* * *

3.

The following night, after fending off Harry's pawing hands when he escorted her back to her chambers, Sansa happily waited for Jon once again. The night wore on and the hour grew late. She climbed into bed, resigning herself to having to wait another night for his company. Just as she was about to blow out her bedside candle, there was a soft, single knock on her door, followed by the hushed sound of it opening and closing.

"I'm sorry I've come so late this time. My talk with Lord Royce went long after dinner. I think he may be a very good option for council. I have to thank you for the suggestion," Jon said, sitting on the bed next to her.

"You're welcome. I may have been surrounded by snakes during my time in King's Landing, but I definitely learned things."

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you from that, Sansa. I wanted to so badly that my brothers in the Watch had to stop me from deserting when I heard about father and learning Cersei had you."

"You still call him 'Father'?" Sansa asked, feeling the warmth of his name from someone else who loved him.

"Of course. He may not have been my true father, but he was the closest thing I would ever have to one. He kept me safe all those years, at the expense of his own reputation and marriage. He taught me everything I know and how to be an honorable man. I'll always see him as a father."

Sansa smiled and felt a single tear roll onto her cheek.

"Why are you crying?" Jon asked softly, using his thumb to gently wipe it away.

"It's just so nice to hear someone speak about Father in such a way. It's been so long."

The rest of their time that night was filled with Sansa going into more detail of her time in King's Landing, Joffrey's wedding, her escape to the Vale, and her current life there. She spoke of her unwillingness to marry Harry, to be a part of Littlefinger's plot at all. She spoke of her desire to leave. And she told him of her dream to be back in Winterfell.

"Well. We are going to have to figure out how to make that happen," Jon offered, getting up from the bed to leave.

Sansa grabbed his arm. "Don't put that hope in me, Jon. Not unless it's real. I won't be able to handle that heartbreak if I get my hopes up for nothing."

Jon gave her an understanding smile, took her hand that was on his arm, and gave it a slow kiss. "We will figure it out, Sansa." His voice was sure and Sansa couldn't help but smile.

As she slept, Sansa dreamt of her home again. Winterfell and its wide open land sprawling in front of her. But there was something new. Jon was there as well now, training with his sword in the yard.

* * *

4.

Another late night followed. Sansa blew out her candle and settled under the bed coverings, convinced that Jon must have thought it was too late for his nightly visit. It wasn't until she was half asleep that she heard her door open.

"Sansa?" Jon breathed into the darkness.

"I'm here," she called out sleepily.

Following the sound of her voice to her bed, Sansa could feel the edge of it dip beneath his weight. "Oh gods, you're sleeping. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have come so late."

"No, no. I'm glad you did. If you get a chance to visit, please do, I want to soak up all this time with someone that actually knows me while I can. Before you disappear to your new life in King's Landing," Sansa said. "Here," she said, making room for him next to her and giving his cloak a tug to lay down.

"I'm going to end up falling asleep here, which wouldn't be the safest decision," he laughed as he laid down beside her on top of the coverings.

"Like you said, you're the king. You can do whatever you want," Sansa teased.

"It probably still wouldn't be too good to be caught sleeping in Lord Baelish's bastard daughter's bed," Jon pointed out.

_And, yet, he's still laying down_ , she noted, happy to feel his presence beside her even if she couldn't see him in the dark. "It feels like we're naughty children about to be caught by Old Nan."

"I sure miss her crazy tales," Jon sighed.

As they both slowly drifted to sleep, they spoke of home and old memories.

Sansa briefly woke up at one point, realizing her arm was draped over Jon's chest, rising up and down with slow breaths. She left it there and fell back asleep. When her eyes fluttered open in the morning, the sunlight showed her Jon had already gone.

* * *

5.

Sansa found her day seemed to tick by ever so slowly as she excitedly looked forward to each evening. Dinner time finally arrived and Sansa noticed that Jon left it relatively early. Hoping to find him in her room later, she grew annoyed when Harry insisted on walking her there after dinner. Once at her door, Sansa had to be more forceful than usual with him when his hands started to roam on her waist, inching towards her breasts. Once she peeled him off, she slipped past her door and immediately bolted it behind her. She turned to look around the room and found it seemingly empty. A slight frown formed on her lips that quickly disappeared when she heard his deep, raspy, angry whisper.

"Has he ever forced himself on you, Sansa?" He walked out from a corner of the room that was partially hidden by her wardrobe. Jon's tone was strong and protective, a feeling of unfamiliar safety touched within her.

"No. He gets handsy sometimes but I've always fended him off."

"Baelish may not need to plot for his murder. I may get to him first."

Sansa smiled and held her hand out to him. Her simple touch seemed to make his anger dissipate as she led him to the bed.

"Don't let me fall asleep again. It's too dangerous."

"But the door is barred. If worse came to worse, we'd be woken up by knocking from my maidservant and we can hide you under the bed until I send her away to retrieve breakfast for me."

"Dangerous, Sansa," Jon teasingly scolded.

"I know. I just feel safer with you here. It's a feeling I haven't felt since leaving Winterfell."

Jon's fingers gently caressed her cheek. "I know. Trust me, I know. I feel safer with you, as well."

"You do?" Sansa asked, shocked she could make anyone feel safe.

"Absolutely. There's a peacefulness when I'm here with you."

"So, then, stay," Sansa nearly pleaded.

"Only for a little bit. I want to keep these visits ongoing. Getting caught would not help that."

"Fine. Tell me how Ghost is faring," Sansa commanded, her and Jon leaning their backs against her bed's headboard, her curling into his side and his arm wrapped around her to hold her there.

"He's doing well enough for being in King's Landing. I'm quite sure he's missing the cold North though. But he's with Sam and Sam spoils him quite a bit."

"I miss Lady," Sansa commented sadly.

"I know you do. I'm so sorry you had to lose her, Sansa." His lips pressed firmly to her forehead and Sansa took comfort in it.

To ease her mind from the sadness of the thought of Lady, Sansa asked Jon to tell her of the political happenings in King's Landing. After an hour or so of that and Sansa's opinions and suggestions, Jon made his way off the bed.

"If I stay longer, I'm going to end up falling asleep," he reasoned. Sansa gave him a mischievous smile in return. "Don't give me that look, you know it would be too risky."

Sansa got up and made sure the corridor was empty. She turned back to Jon and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Her lips lingered longer than she intended but he didn't seem to mind. "Good night, Jon." For a split second, Sansa thought she saw his eyes flicker to her lips before he turned and left.

She again dreamt of Winterfell. And Jon was there again too. This time they walked side by side in the godswood. The last thing she could recall from it was Jon pulling her to a stop, closing the little distance they had, and gazing at her longingly. Lovingly.

* * *

6.

The following night, Sansa laid in bed. The hour was late. After dinner had ended, as Baelish escorted her out of the hall and towards her chambers, she saw Jon walk in the opposite direction with Lord Royce. Baelish wondered out loud what was going on with that. Sansa was happy that she finally knew something Baelish didn't already know. Blowing out her candle, she figured Jon's meeting with Royce ran late. As she fell asleep, she thought of Jon. _What are these feelings I have for him, the feelings I have when I'm with him?_ she wondered. _Do I want him? As a wife would want a husband? Is that wrong? We grew up as if he were our brother. But he's not my brother. And the dream. The way he looked at me. It felt so right. He's brave and gentle and strong, a man worthy of me. Just as Father promised all those years ago_. She yawned wide and drifted off, thinking that Jon probably didn't see her in the same way.

She was awoken by her bed dipping down beside her and an arm draping across her waist.

"Jon?" Sansa asked into the dark.

"Shhhh, go back to sleep."

Sansa couldn't help but smile at the sound of his voice. "But what are you doing here? I thought this was 'too dangerous'?" she sleepily teased as she turned on her side to face him.

"It is. And I shouldn't be here. My talk with Royce went too long again. I went back to my room and told myself it was too late to come to you, I would surely fall asleep here if I did. So I tried sleeping, it didn't work. I didn't want to skip one of our opportunities for a visit. So here I am, hoping I wake up well before the sun rises."

"Good." Sansa snuggled into his chest and she heard a blissful sigh escape his lips. _Maybe he does see me in the same way?_

* * *

7.

Dinner the next night was more relaxed. The king had decided to take his meal early in his chambers with just Baelish and Royce for company. Sansa was able to be at ease without the cautious stare of Baelish nearby. Harry didn't even show up and that only made her happier. Once done with her meal, she made her way to her room, passing by Mya Stone and trying to silently convey her appreciation of the girl's initial helpfulness through her smile. Opening her door, she found her room empty until Jon stepped out from the dark corner. In his hands he held a lemon cake.

"Is that what I think it is?" Sansa asked excitedly and rushed over to him.

"Your favorite. I asked the kitchen if it was possible and they whipped it up."

"Thank you, Jon!" Sansa said, placing a kiss on his cheek, chancing it closer to the corner of his lips this time. "Petyr had a lemon tree planted up here for me when I first arrived. But then he said I was eating it too much and he wouldn't be able to marry off a cow. So, no more lemon cakes." The hint of anger started to rise in Jon's face again. Sansa just laughed. "Let's not think about him on this lovely night. Especially when we have a lemon cake to savor."

Jon handed her a fork and she happily took the first bite. "It is beautiful up here," he stated, staring out the nearby window into the starry night.

"You'd get over it rather quickly. You'd start missing the ground. Real ground, expanding as far as the eye can see. You'd start to feel like a bird in a cage here," Sansa said sadly.

"You're going to be free, Sansa," Jon offered, hope in his voice.

"I told you not to say that unless it were true."

"I'm working on a plan."

Sansa looked at him, their eyes meeting. Wordlessly, Jon wiped a crumb from her lip. Sansa gave his thumb a kiss, their eyes never leaving one another. Jon let out a breath, like he was relinquishing to his desperate wants. His hand cradled her cheek and, all at once, his lips were on hers. Sensuously, their lips danced slowly together. Sansa's hands found the back of his neck, her fingers weaving through his inky curls. Jon's hands moved to her waist, pulling her tighter against him. It wasn't until Sansa let a moan escape and her tongue begged entrance into his mouth, that Jon pulled away.

"I'm so sorry," he choked out, shame seeming to take over.

"Sorry?" Sansa asked, confused.

"I shouldn't have done that. I'll leave now."

And, just like that, he was gone. Sansa stood there, unsure of what had just occurred.

It took some time with the thoughts racing through her mind, but she finally fell asleep. She dreamt of Winterfell once again. It was the godswood, but this time it was night. Sansa and Jon stood in front of the weirwood and said the old vows to one another. Their kiss sealed their marriage. Jon continued to weave into her dreams, growing like the crawling ivy over Winterfell's walls in the spring.

* * *

8.

Throughout the following day, Sansa didn't even catch a glimpse of Jon. _Is he actively avoiding me?_ she wondered at dinner, looking at his empty seat. She headed to her chambers, hoping he would already be there. _Wishful thinking_ , she thought. She found her room truly empty and she plopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. As time went on and still no Jon, she wondered if she should make a secret visit to his room instead. While it was tempting, she knew she'd get caught.

Thankfully, her door slid open and Jon appeared, barring it behind him.

"Jon," Sansa whispered with a breath of relief.

"I need to apologize, Sansa. I shouldn't have done what I did last night."

"But can't you see, Jon? You don't need to apologize."

"I shouldn't have let my baseborn wants take control."

"Whatever wants they are, they're not baseborn," Sansa said firmly. She walked up to him and took his hand.

"But I was raised with you as my sister."

"We are not truly brother and sister though." She pressed her body lightly against his. "Thank the old gods and the new," she muttered with a wry smile. "And we were never close. Not until now." Her lips ghosted along his cheek.

"Sansa," Jon gulped.

"I want you, Jon. Only you."

Jon's lips crashed into hers once again, this time with more force. Stumbling backwards, they found the bed. Even with the needy strength of his kisses, Jon still laid her down gently, covering her body with his. The weight of him above her felt like security personified. She was ready to complain when his lips left hers, only to be pleasantly surprised to feel him scattering kisses along her neck, his hand tugging at her robe so he could reach her shoulder as well.

"I've thought of you so much throughout all these years," he whispered in between kisses. "I never understood why until my eyes fell on you when I arrived here. It was then that I understood. And I tried so hard to keep what I felt down. I thought you would be ashamed of me."

"Never, Jon. Never," Sansa gasped back, his grazing lips building a fire within her.

"I love you, Sansa." His whispered breath fell upon her ear and she felt her once-wilting heart bloom within her chest.

"I love you, Jon Snow." Even though he had only just come back into her life, she knew her words were true as they left her mouth. No truer words had ever been spoken.

Jon's movements stopped and he gazed down at her. His eyes filled with surprise that those words had just come out of her mouth, previously sure this was one-sided on his part.

"I love you," Sansa repeated.

His lips were back on hers. She tugged at his tunic, getting it loose and pulling it up until he shed it. Her hands danced over his muscles, feeling the raised scars along his skin. Pushing him off and onto his back, she threw a leg over and straddled him. His hands grasped her hips and held her firmly against him. Sansa gave a slight grind on him. Jon's head tilted back in pleasure. With a proud smile, she leaned down, lips trailing along his neck, a nibble at his ear, and then began to plant gentle kisses on each of the scars she could see. Jon's breath became haggard until he guided her back up to his face. His hands worked on her robe, quickly loosening and sliding it down her arms to reveal her smallclothes. He worked on the thin, white shift she wore, inching it achingly slowly up her body until she grew impatient and quickly discarded it. Jon gazed at her naked body, completely in awe.

"Sansa. You're so beautiful,' he breathed, his fingers lightly grazing the smooth skin of her belly. The touch made her shiver in anticipation. Sensing that cue, Jon reached up and cupped her breast, Sansa releasing a gasp as she arched into the touch. Not being fully satisfied, Jon propped himself up and took the other breast in his mouth. Sansa had to stop herself from moaning loudly as she gripped his hair. Her hips began to move on their own accord, her naked wetness rubbing against Jon's trousers. Through the material, she could feel his hard member. Wrapping his arms around her, he guided her rocking motions until she was panting in his ear. In a swift movement, he laid her back down on the bed and trailed his way down her body with lips and tongue, finally reaching that sweet wetness. He licked into her folds and it nearly brought Sansa off the bed. His tongue swiped along her sensitive nub and Sansa's hand flew to the back of his head, holding him there as his tongue worked at her. Trying to stay quiet might have been the hardest thing she ever had to do. A molten warmth consumed her from within until she felt a sudden explosion. Jon eased his tongue's assault on her for a minute before going at it again, leading to another earth shattering explosion. As much as she could spend the whole night in that situation, she needed more of him. Pulling at his arm, he came back up. She captured his lips and reveled in her own taste.

"I need you inside me," she whispered. She received a moan in return. Jon started on his trousers, shedding them as quickly as possible before slotting himself between her legs.

"You're sure?" Jon asked. A gentle kiss placed upon her lips.

"Very. Make love to me, Jon." His kiss was loving as he placed his cock's head at her entrance. He moved it along her slit and then gently pushed in. The pain as he stretched her was exquisite. And when he was fully seated within her, she let out a happy sigh. Moving together, they built their rhythm, Jon whispering words of love in her ear and Sansa's nails clutching as his back, surely making marks. His strokes were long and slow. Gentle but giving her a sense of complete and utter fullness, in both her body and her heart. Jon's hand found her sensitive clit and his fingers circled it as his strokes continued. It quickly brought Sansa over the edge again, her walls pulsating uncontrollably around his cock. Jon quickly pulled out, his seed spilling across Sansa's stomach. She gave him a tired, satisfied smile. Taking her discarded shift, she wiped the mess from her skin and tossed it to the floor, making a mental note to wash it herself in the morning before her maidservant could see it.

Jon laid beside her and she turned on her side to face him. He pushed away the dark hair that fell in her face and smiled. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and finally her lips. "Go to sleep, love."

Sansa drifted off in his tight embrace, a distant thought that her current heaven would be leaving her soon began to creep into her mind.

* * *

9.

The next morning, Sansa found her bed cold with Jon already gone. She could feel the dull ache between her legs and couldn't help but smile. She was indescribably happy that it was Jon who took her maidenhead and not the insufferably cruel Joffrey or the unworthy Harry.

Sansa continued about her day, unable to avoid the continuous reminder that Jon would be leaving. Wherever she went, she either passed by preparations of the royal departure or people talking about it. She tried to not look visibly saddened, especially in front of Littlefinger as he made a visit to her chambers for lunch.

"The king has come to me with a peculiar request," Baelish commented after they finished eating. His voice was oily and his expression inscrutable.

"And what was that, Father?"

"He wishes for me to break your betrothal to Hardyng. He wants to take you to King's Landing." Petyr's eyes bore into Sansa like it was trying to read her every thought.

"Why would he ask that?" Sansa said, feigning shock and confusion, hiding her elation that Jon was trying to free her.

"That's a very good question." He began to circle around the chair Sansa sat in. It was almost as if he were stalking prey. "I've been wondering the very same thing since you have been keeping your distance from him. Right, sweetling?"

"Of course, Father. The only time I see him is at supper, and I am seated far from him," Sansa insisted. Fear started to creep into her body.

"Yes, yes. You've followed my instructions well," Baelish conceded and sat down. "Which is why I was confused with his request. I imagine he could still be aware of your beauty, of course. He offered to marry you. I find that curious as well. From what he knows, you're a bastard. That wouldn't make a suitable queen. Perhaps he was just telling me he'd marry you so I'd let you go, meanwhile he only makes you a concubine. I could see that scenario being more likely. But any child you bore him would be useless to us. "

"What will you tell him, Father?" Sansa asked, placing worry in her eyes as to not look obvious that she wanted him to say yes.

"I'm not entirely sure yet. Of course, the best circumstance would be if he married you and you bore him an heir. My grandson would be prince. That would give me a good deal of power. If he doesn't marry you, it would all be worthless, but I also wouldn't want to anger him so soon. In both cases, I have the fear that he will eventually realize who you are. Or even that someone else in King's Landing would recognize you. Needless to say, I can't have that."

"Will you tell him no? What if he reacts poorly to that? What if he has the Targaryen madness within him? The Targaryens have dragons," Sansa pretended to fret.

"Yes, that is a concern. There is another idea I have." Littlefinger's eyes had a mischievous glint in them. It truly worried Sansa. "I could marry you immediately myself and reveal your true identity. Now that the Targaryens have taken Winterfell back from the Boltons, your cousin may allow you to return home, where you and I could be the Lord and Lady of Winterfell."

Sansa hoped Baelish didn't notice her disgusted shiver at the thought of being married to him.

"You don't think the king would be angry that you've lied to him?"

"He may be. However, I would have the septon marry us quickly before I tell the king your true name. You're his family, he's bound to feel a familial kindness towards you and, to an extent, me as your husband. He may even be happy to have a Stark in Winterfell once again. But he could only find out if you and I were married. Otherwise, it's all for naught."

Sansa hid her cringe once again. "What will you do, Father?"

"I must sleep on it. Decide what would be the best, but safest option, for me."

Once Littlefinger left her chamber, Sansa paced around the room. She had no idea how she could inform Jon of Baelish's newest idea. Her mind started to drown in the awful thoughts of being married to that worm of a man. It was something Sansa had always feared since he took her away from King's Landing. The look in his eyes when they fell upon her always made her uncomfortable, to the point that she was happy to be his pretend daughter so that she wouldn't have to worry about his hungry looks. But now this. If Baelish decided to go through with his newest scheme, he would get her and he could get Winterfell. No matter how bad Sansa wanted her true home back, she would never take it back if it meant Littlefinger would be its lord.

She didn't realize how long she had been worrying about it all until her maidservant came in to help her prepare for the farewell feast. Harry arrived to escort her to the hall and when they entered, Sansa could see Jon and Baelish drinking wine and in deep conversation. Throughout the feast, Sansa could barely contain herself and wait for Jon's last nightly visit so she could tell him her worries. But when she got back to her chamber, she found it empty and she waited. Finally, there was a light knock on the door. When she opened it, a smiling Mya stone stood before her with a plate of lemon cake held out in front of her.

"I was told to deliver the lemon cake you wanted," she said with a wink and promptly disappeared down the corridor after handing the plate to Sansa.

_Why would he send me this?_ Sansa pondered, frowning at the little cake. It was then that she noticed a corner of parchment slightly sticking out from the bottom. Lifting the cake, she found a folded note.

'I'm sure, by now, you've heard of my request to your father. Because of his, I fear he may be suspicious. To be safe, I will not be coming for our visit tonight. I will see you tomorrow when I can whisk you away. How could he say no? I'm the king.'

Sansa could almost see Jon's playful smile in her mind before reality stepped in. Jon had no idea Baelish was thinking of another plan, but he needed to know. Without another thought, she threw on a black cloak and hurried out of the room. Thinking Mya Stone couldn't have gotten very far, Sansa looked left and right for her, finding her just outside the corridor. She asked for her help in sneaking her way to see the king. Mya readily agreed, enjoying the mysterious danger of it all. She led Sansa towards Jon's quarters and distracted the men who were milling about so Sansa could pass. After her rapid knock on his door, it swung open. Jon's face turned to shock at the sight of her.

"What are you doing? What if you got caught?" Jon asked, taking her hand and pulling her into the room, barring the door for good measure.

"I had to speak to you. Baelish is thinking of another option."

"He would deny the king?"

"He's worried you may not marry me. And even if you do, he worries that you'll finally find out I'm actually Sansa Stark, completely draining him of any power an heir could give him as 'grandfather'."

"Well, he's right, that was the plan. As soon as you were safe with me in King's Landing, we'd announce who you really are. So now what does he propose?"

"He's thinking of marrying me. Quickly. And then announcing my true name. He thinks his marriage to me, your cousin, would offer him protection of your wrath and that you would grant us Winterfell."

"He wishes to marry you?" Jon's anger was rising again.

"I've always been scared of that outcome. I thought I was at least saved from that when he declared me as his daughter. What do we do, Jon?"

"Let me think on that. In the meantime, you're staying here. I don't want Littlefinger suddenly rushing you to a septon in the middle of the night."

"What if I can't go with you? What if we can't be together after tonight?" Sansa asked.

"Don't think of that, love," Jon replied softly and kissed her forehead. "Lay down," he suggested, taking her hand and leading her to the bed. He held her tight as he quietly thought of his options. Just as Sansa's eyes were starting to drift shut, Jon jumped out of bed. "I need to speak with Lord Royce. I will instruct my guards to not let anyone anywhere near this room. I will be back as soon as I can." Sansa nodded, her brows still furrowed in worry. Jon smiled sweetly at her and kissed her lips before slipping out the door. It was just what she needed. Before long, Sansa's eyes slipped shut.

* * *

10.

"Wake up, love," Jon's voice carried in a gentle whisper to her ear. Sansa's eyes fluttered open and the daylight startled her.

"It's already morning?" she asked, sitting up.

"Yes," Jon laughed. "I was surprised you didn't wake up with my comings and goings through the night."

"What happened with Royce? Do you have a plan?"

"I told Royce the truth. I know he has no love for Baelish so I figured it'd be safe to trust him. He's behind us and he believes the other lords and ladies of the Vale would follow suit. I came back to write to Daenerys to make her aware of what's happening, in case a show of force needs to take place here. I sent it off very early this morning. I have called for a meeting of the lords in the High Hall this morning, Baelish should only believe it's to thank him and the Vale for hosting me. However, you and I will be announcing your true self in front of them all. And I will be informing them of my intent to take you away from here and away from Baelish."

Sansa smiled at the thought but it quickly faltered. "He'd just as much push me from the Moon Door than let you have me without any gain for himself."

Taking her chin gently in his hand and kissing the tip of her nose, Jon smiled. "If you think I'd let him get close enough to harm you, you'd be sorely wrong, Lady Stark."

Sansa couldn't help but smile at that.

Eventually, there was a knock at the door and the announcement that the lords had gathered in the High Hall. Sansa straightened out her dress and pushed her hair back. She stood tall as Jon took her arm in his and they glided down the corridor. She could see Baelish when they entered the High Hall, his look frazzled and harried. Lord Royce gave Jon a confident nod. The other lords noticed their arrival and Baelish's attention turned toward them. His eyes grew wild at the sight of them together.

"Alayne, where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for you," Baelish said sternly, making his way to her.

Jon lifted his arm, his resolute hand stopping Littlefinger from a distance. "My lords. I have you gathered here to not only thank you for your hospitality, but to inform you of some news as well, regarding Alayne Stone," Jon said, loud and steady, with a gesture to Sansa on his arm.

"Your Grace, if we could just speak alone. We should discuss your previous request," Baelish shakily suggested.

"I have no interest in speaking to you, Baelish. You have no power to grant me my request," Jon replied, his voice deep and measured. "My lords, may I present to you, not Alayne Stone, but Sansa Stark." Murmuring could be heard through the room. Sansa was happy to see Petyr's face turn bone white.

"It is true. I met Sansa Stark in Winterfell years ago. I thought I had recognized her when she was first brought here," Lord Royce spoke up.

"Baelish has been passing off Lady Sansa as his daughter in order to gain power here in the Vale through her eventual marriage. Lady Sansa has effectively been his prisoner here these last few years."

"These are all lies," Baelish suddenly said, his weasel-like expression turning towards the men that were gathered. "This is the king trying to take what is not his by any means necessary. Alayne is my daughter, she is mine to give away, and the king was not happy that I was going to turn down his offer."

"I am not yours. I am not your daughter." Sansa's voice rang out loud and clear. "I am Sansa Stark. Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn's daughter; the blood of Winterfell." All eyes were on her, she could feel Jon proudly smiling at her side. Littlefinger seemed to be shrinking with each word that left her lips. "I have you to thank for taking me out of King's Landing. But you only imprisoned me here with you instead. Dyeing my hair and claiming me to be yours. You claimed the right to betroth me for your own advantageous gains. You plot for Lord Robin's death. And for Hardyng's, as well, once I wed him. You killed my aunt Lysa." All eyes now left Sansa and burned holes into Baelish where he cowered.

"My lords. I have informed Lord Royce about all of Lord Baelish's treacheries. I will leave him with you to deal justice as you please. I thank you for your hospitality and will be pleased to visit you again in the future. Later today I will take my leave with Lady Sansa at my side," Jon said, turning to Sansa and sharing her smile.

* * *

Epilogue.

Sansa made her way through the godswood on a lovely spring day. Ivy had begun to crawl up the walls that surrounded it.

_It seems so long ago when I used to dream of this_ , she thought to herself with a smile, happy that she was back where she belonged. Where they belonged.

Jon and Sansa left the Vale that fateful day for King's Landing. A place Sansa once feared, it was completely different coming back to it with Jon by her side. They formed a new plan, and it may have taken some time, but it eventually became a reality. Speaking to his aunt and then the rest of council about his wishes, Jon informed them that he truly didn't want to be king. After many discussions and strategizing, it was agreed that Jon would step down from the Iron Throne and go to Winterfell, the North would be free from the Seven Kingdoms, and Daenerys would become the queen of the remaining six. After a long transition time, in which Jon helped Daenerys establish herself with the people, they began accepting her as their queen. Jon and Sansa were finally free to return home. On their very first night back in Winterfell, they married beneath the heart tree.

Ghost came running up to her as she came upon the very spot of their small wedding. The big furry beast affectionately rubbed against her, his size nearly knocking Sansa down.

"Careful, Ghost!" Jon called out, running to Sansa to steady her.

"Oh he's just showing his love," Sansa laughed.

"Yes, but he needs to be more gentle around you. And even more so when this one decides to join us," Jon smiled, caressing Sansa's large belly.

"Ghost will know exactly what to do, love," Sansa laughed in return and pet the direwolf. "Won't you, boy?"

"May we join you on your walk?" Jon asked.

"You may," Sansa smiled. He took her hand in his and kissed it.

As they made their way around the pool of water, Sansa felt grateful that sometimes life was better than even the best dreams.


End file.
